You're a Horcrux, Harry
by humbledbyit
Summary: When Harry is possessed in the Department of Mysteries, things do not go as planned. Voldemort immediately recognizes the Horcrux inside Harry and decides to kidnap him. This story follows Lord Voldemort after OOTP and what he decides to do with Harry once he understands he's created an accidental Horcrux. Rated M for violence.
1. Chapter 1: Capture

**Chapter 1: Capture**

***Author's Note: This first part is taken from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix when Harry is possessed by Voldemort. The following chapters are all my original work stemming from this moment.**

Sure it was over. Sure Voldemort had decided to flee, Harry made to run out from behind his statue guard, but Dumbledore bellowed, "Stay where you are, Harry!"

For the first time, Dumbledore sounded frightened. Harry could not see why. The hall was quite empty but for themselves, the sobbing Bellatrix still trapped under her statue, and the tiny baby Fawkes croaking feebly on the floor —

And then Harry's scar burst open. He knew he was dead: it was pain beyond imagining, pain past endurance —

He was gone from the hall, he was locked in the coils of a creature with red eyes, so tightly bound that Harry did not know where his body ended and the creature's began. They were fused together, bound by pain, and there was no escape —

And when the creature spoke, it used Harry's mouth, so that in his agony, he felt his jaw move….

"_Kill me now, Dumbledore…._"

Blinded and dying, every part of him screaming for release, Harry felt the creature use him again.

"_No… It cannot be…_"

The creature's coils loosened, the pain was gone, Harry was horrified to realize he was in the arms of Voldemort, cradled like a baby. With an echoing _crack_, they were gone —

Dumbledore's spell only just missing them as he noticed too late that Voldemort had released Harry from possession.

Harry didn't even have time to turn his head and look to see where they had Apparated before his face was muffled by Voldemort's icy hand. Voldemort muttered an incantation like a shrill, melodic song as Harry drifted into darkness.


	2. Chapter 2: Taking Malfoy Manor

**Chapter 2: Taking Malfoy Manor**

Voldemort found Narcissa in the drawing room pacing in front of the fireplace. She was wringing her hands and throwing anxious glances at the grandfather clock as the hour grew ever later and her husband, Lucius, had yet to return.

"Your fool husband won't be returning quite yet, Narcissa," said Voldemort coldly. Narcissa jumped at the sound of Lord Voldemort's voice and turned to face him, trembling.

"The Ministry knows I have returned to full strength. I'll be using the Manor as a new base while I make my plans. Of course, that is, if you have no objections to being my gracious host?" he added nastily.

"Not… not at all, my Lord," Narcissa stammered. She looked as though she wanted to say more, but was too frightened of the towering man before her, his hideous snake-like face mere feet from her own.

"I've taken up the West corridor suite and all its surrounding rooms. NO ONE is to enter that wing without my direct order, do you understand me?" Voldemort leaned down so that his lipless mouth was next to her ear. He slowly moved the blonde strands of hair with his unnaturally long fingers and whispered, "No one, Narcissa. I will hold you personally accountable if anyone so much as passes a toe down that corridor." She shivered in response.

"Now," he said, straightening up and getting suddenly businesslike. "Get me some house elves will you? And head upstairs or out of sight. I need to call my Death Eaters and figure out what to do about Lucius' blunders."

Narcissa seemed to have found a spark of courage at the sound of her husband's name as words tumbled out of her so quickly, Voldemort could barely make out what she said.

"Is-Lucius-alright? What-has-he-done? Where-is-he-now?" But as quickly as the words had come, she sputtered out the last few as though they were already dead in the air at the sight of those pitiless red eyes. Narcissa felt a sudden and sharp pain in her side and fell with a gasp to the floor.

"Silence, idiot woman," Voldemort hissed angrily. "I just gave you direct orders. Do not ever question me! Get. Out. Of. My. Sight."

Narcissa didn't need twice telling. She pulled herself to her feet, but with another gasp realized that the pain in her side was still there. Clutching it tightly and trying not to breath, she exited the room and flew into the kitchen as fast as her legs could carry, all the while feeling as though a white-hot knife was piercing her stomach, yet no object or blood was to be found.

Voldemort didn't even notice her leave the room as he called his Death Eaters to the mansion. Those who had not been at the Ministry soon began to fill the room and form their traditional circle around the Dark Lord. Voldemort had his back turned to them as they silently took their places. He looked deep in thought as he stared at the dwindling coals in the fire Narcissa had neglected when her husband did not return. The flickers cast dark shadows on the walls and across the faces of the hooded Death Eaters. After a few long moments, Voldemort turned to face his loyal followers and addressed them in no more than a whisper, but they raptly listened to every word.

"Lucius and his team have failed. The Prophecy has been destroyed." A low hiss emanated from the crowd. "Ah my friends, the news is far worse than that," Voldemort continued. "I was forced to enter the fray myself and now the Ministry knows for certain that I have returned." The hissing grew louder and a few of the Death Eaters swore.

"We knew this would be inevitable," Voldemort said. "As unfortunate as it is that it happened tonight, it is still possible to play this to our advantage. I have left the Ministry in complete disarray — for tonight, my dear servants, tonight, I have captured Harry Potter himself." The Death Eaters let out exclamations of shock, mingled with a few surprised cheers.

"Captured, my lord?" asked Avery rashly. "You have not yet killed him?" The others glanced sidelong at Avery, clearly unnerved that he would question the Dark Lord so boldly. In the silence, Avery seemed to realize his mistake and the eagerness in his face morphed quickly into one of trepidation. But Voldemort had expected the question and only smiled cruelly.

"Now that the boy is mine, I see no need to try and dispose of him so rapidly. Without the Prophecy, I would like to take some time to… experiment on the boy. Perhaps I was too eager in my desire to kill Harry Potter. Perhaps he has some powers that could be extracted… used to my advantage…" Voldemort trailed off and seemed lost in thought once again. He was careful to explain his plan without mentioning horcruxes or the true importance Harry Potter alive now meant to him. In his opinion, the less his Death Eaters knew, the better. The Death Eaters waited silently for Voldemort to say more, not wanting to disturb their master. With a sudden shake of his head, Voldemort returned his senses to the men that stood before him.

"The Ministry is distracted with Harry Potter's disappearance," he explained. "Dumbledore will be there with half the Order deciding what to do. The fools may even try and come here which is why I'm going to enchant it right now with the Fidelius Charm. We, friends, are going to Azkaban tonight while our enemies are blundering about Potter. I will command the Dementors to join me and we will free all the prisoners on the island. Grab them all and Disapparate them all to the graveyard. There, they will be faced with the choice to join us and our noble cause… or die."

The Death Eaters murmured their agreement and excitement at this plan. "Wormtail!" Voldemort said sharply. The man called Wormtail jumped when addressed and looked fearfully at his master, a silver hand rubbing his forearm in agitation. "Go now in disguise and watch for the arrival of the Ministry officials bringing in Lucius and the others. When they are being brought to the prison, come back and warn us. We will be waiting here.

"Now!" he said again as the man stared stupidly back at him. With a start, Wormtail pulled out his wand and Disapparated. Voldemort spent the next few moments handing out commands to his followers: forming them in teams, assigning them tasks, and preparing them for the job ahead—one he desperately needed to go more smoothly than the fiasco at the Ministry mere hours ago.

Voldemort spent the rest of the hour perfecting the Fidelius charm so that only his Death Eaters would know how to get to Malfoy Manor from now on. The Order would know he was here of course, once they realized it has become Unplottable, but that was no matter. He would be safe, and they would be unable to reach Potter with so many magical protections underway. When it came time to move, the boy would hopefully be fully under his control.

Just when his Death Eaters were beginning to get antsy for battle, a rat popped into the center of the room before suddenly transforming into a short, wheezing man. Wormtail squeaked that the Death Eaters from the Ministry were being transported to their cells. In a matter of seconds the entire drawing room was emptied and the only sound that could be heard was the crackling of the last few embers of a dying flame.


	3. Chapter 3: Graveyard Ultimatum

**Chapter 3: Graveyard Ultimatum**

A crowd of three dozen men and a handful of women stood warily before the Dark Lord. The Death Eaters surrounded them in a large circle spotted with looked ragged, confused, and dirty. Most of them were glancing fearfully at Voldemort or glancing furtively at the Death Eaters surrounding them as though looking for a break in the circle to run off. Eight of the prisoners were kneeling before Voldemort. One with frizzy black hair was bowed so low, she was touching the ground mere inches from the hem of Voldemort's robe. She was breathing heavily, murmuring, "My lord," over and over again. It was Bellatrix Lestrange.

The Dementors were swooping around the grave and into the air above that created a chilling mist over the crowd of people in the center of the open space.

"Friends," Voldemort spoke softly, but everyone in the graveyard could hear him perfectly. There was no other sound except for the slight rusting of wind in the trees and Bellatrix's heavy breathing. "Not all of you know me, but I will count you as friends because I too know the feeling of being wrongfully imprisoned. You are all wizards, and yet your own kind punished you for the simple use of magic. Our political system is broken, my friends."

A murmur of agreement broke out amongst the Death Eaters. The prisoners stood transfixed, still fearful, and yet a few of the men were nodding along to Voldemort's words. He smiled as he looked upon them, ignoring the ones already kneeling before him.

"You stand here today because of my generosity and good faith. I do not expect such gifts to go unnoticed." Voldemort was not smiling now and a shiver passed through the crowd of prisoners. "I will be frank, friends though we are, your freedom comes with a price." Voldemort looked intently at the prisoners, while his Death Eaters raised their wands toward the them.

One of the largest prisoners, with a scruff of grey beard covering most of his face along with a mane of grisly, matted hair, called back bravely, "An' wha price migh' tha' be?"

Voldemort smiled evilly at his bait. "_Avada kedavra_," he said with a flick of his wand. The prisoner's nearest to the man, leaped back in surprise as his enormous body fell with a sickening thud in a flash of green light. The rest of the men let out strangled cries and gasps. "Your lives, of course," Voldemort continued simply as though the dead man were still standing before him. Many of the men fell suddenly to their knees, copying the Death Eaters already on the ground. Voldemort chuckled.

"Ahhh, now you're getting the idea," he said, nodding in approval at the kneeling prisoners. A few more quickly dropped to their knees. "Without me, you would be suffering the fate of these fine creatures that surround us." Voldemort pointed to the Dementors as they continued to crowd the graveyard, inching closer and closer to the group of men and women on the ground.

"_I told you I would bring you freedom_," Voldemort called out to the Dementors. "And Lord Voldemort always keeps his promises. Go forth to London and increase your numbers ten fold. I shall call upon you when the war begins and your feasting will grow ever larger." In shock, the prisoners watched their terrible guards bow to Voldemort before flying off into the blackened sky.

Voldemort turned his attention back to the men, most of whom were on their knees at this point. "And so, friends. Will you join me, and discover for yourself what true power is?" The prisoners nodded vigorously, most too scared to speak or do more than murmur assent. It seemed enough to satisfy the Dark Lord. He nodded to one of the hooded figures on his right. Immediately, a heavy padlocked chest appeared in the air and was unlocked. The prisoner's wands came out in one large clump and speed into the hands of their open-mouthed owners.

"You cannot Disapparate in this graveyard…" Voldemort began.

With a burst of red light and a noise that sounded like gunfire, two of the masked Death Eaters were sent flying into the air while a pair of the prisoners ran forward in unison, a mad dash to escape. The Death Eaters started tossing curses at the men and in seconds, they were disarmed, lying still on the ground. Voldemort's high pitched laughter rang in the night and sent shiver's down the backs of those who were virgin to the sound.

"Yaxley, Rowle," Voldemort called, looking at two of the hooded Death Eaters in his fold. "Lead the rest of the Death Eaters to our base outside London. Bring the new recruits and these two defectors with you," he said, nodding to the unconscious men lying mere feet from where they had started before their hapless attempt to escape. The Dark Lord had not even bothered to raise his wand when they tried to run, knowing his Death Eaters would easily stop them. "Collect the usual information, get the prisoners clean robes and meals, before sending them on their way to freedom." Voldemort was still staring hungrily at the two unconscious men. "And perhaps you will even have time to show them what happens to those who disobey the commands of Lord Voldemort."

Yaxley nodded excitedly and Rowle looked condescendingly at his other Death Eaters. His haughty expression imposing on them the triumphant fact that he had been chosen by the Dark Lord to take charge. He sneered at the crumpled form that was Lucius Malfoy, still kneeling in the grass at Voldemort's feet, before walking forward, grabbing a few prisoners and Disapparating with a loud _Pop_. The others followed suit until all who remained in the graveyard were Voldemort and the Death Eaters who had been captured at the Ministry. Their faces were in the grass, bowed and unmoving since first arriving in the graveyard.

"I do not, I think, have to impose upon you the severe disappointment I have for your failure to retrieve my prophecy," Voldemort was whispering, but the Death Eaters caught every word with rising fear in their hearts. "But you are in luck that tonight has gone so well. I am pleased to have the Dementors on my side. And taking Azkaban has been at least one success we had tonight."

Lucius Malfoy glanced hopefully at Voldemort, before hastily averting his eyes back to the ground when he saw that Voldemort was looking directly back.

"This was your mission, Lucius," Voldemort said quietly.

"Yes, my Lord, I have failed you, my Lord," Lucius said promptly and shakily. "My Lord, I am deeply regretful for the situation that has played out tonight… I… I do not know what I can say to…"

"_Crucio_," Voldemort said lazily. Malfoy screamed in agony as the others winced around him. Finally, he was released and Voldemort continued as though nothing had happened.

"You are lucky, friends. You will be punished for your failings, do not be mistaken. But I do not have time to deal with it tonight. Go now and perhaps my anger will have ebbed when I come calling for my penance from you all. Now go, stay hidden, and come when I call." With a sigh of relief, the Death Eaters took out their wands. Bellatrix looked as though she wanted to say something, but before she could so much as look upon her master, he was gone.

They all Disapparated without another word, and once again the wind rustled through an empty graveyard outside the Riddle Mansion.


	4. Chapter 4: Awake

**Chapter 4: Awake**

Voldemort returned to his quarters triumphant. The battle at Azkaban could not have gone better. The Dementors were on his side and so were all the former prisoners — well, those that were not complete fools that is. He chuckled darkly at the thought of those who had tried to flee and the Death he had set upon them, hoping his supporters made painful examples of them.

He set his eyes upon the boy sleeping peacefully on the circular bed and Voldemort's feelings of maniac glee intensified. He, Lord Voldemort, the most powerful wizard in the world had finally captured the Boy Who Lived. _The boy who has been a pain in my arse for 14 long years_, Voldemort mused. Gliding forward with great anticipation, Voldemort lifted the boy into his arms once more and carried him to the black leather armchair by the fire. He set Harry down with care so that he was sitting upright, his head lolling to one side as he carried on in his enchanted sleep. Voldemort pointed his wand at the fireplace and in a flash, a roaring fire poured warmth and light into the dark room. Voldemort took a seat in the armchair opposite Harry and called Nagini to him through their telepathic link.

He pointed his wand at Harry's chest.

"_Enervate,_" he said and Harry awoke with a start.

Harry took in his surroundings in one wide glance, like a panoramic photo. To his left, a large ornate mantle held a roaring fire. To his right lay an enormous circular bed with velvety green blankets and Slytherin banners on either side. And directly in front of him, Harry stared into the eyes of his greatest enemy — the horrible, nightmarish face of Lord Voldemort himself. Harry sat frozen for a few seconds, trying to take in the scene before him. Voldemort had his spider-like hands clasped beneath his chin thoughtfully as he surveyed Harry with a thin smile spread across his face.

Harry realized he wasn't tied up and automatically rubbed his hands down the side of his robes checking his pockets for his wand. It was not there. Voldemort's smile grew wider and Harry's heart began beating faster. He asked the only question that came to him since he had awoken.

"Er, why am I not dead?" Harry asked blankly. Voldemort didn't respond at first and Harry wasn't even sure if he had heard him. He was looking deep into Harry's eyes as though he were trying to see straight into Harry's soul, or at least that's what it felt like to Harry. Unbeknownst to him, this is exactly what Lord Voldemort was doing. Or, more accurately, he was looking to see if there was a glimmer of his horcrux hidden behind the depths of those bright green eyes. Voldmort cocked his head to one side and then the other, never blinking. Harry, feeling frightened, tried to look away, but suddenly Voldemort was upon him clasping his wrist to the chair and using his other hand to force Harry's face upward and looking at him. Harry's scar erupted into pain and he let out a strangled cry. Immediately Voldemort let go of him, looking concerned.

"That hurt you?" he asked him in a way that quite unnerved Harry. "Was it your scar?" Without waiting for a response, Voldemort brushed his finger lightly over the lightning bolt scar on Harry's forehead. Harry let out a low hiss of pain and tried to lean his head back into the armchair and away from Voldemort. Voldemort hummed ponderously as he moved to sit back down in his chair. Once again, Voldemort pointed his wand at Harry.

"_Legilimens_," he said as he dove into Harry's mind. The force and speed at which Voldemort entered Harry's mind caught him completely off guard. It was ten times worse than when Snape had forced his way in during their failed lessons. Memories poured from Harry left and right. He was unable to stop the tide or direction of his thoughts. Voldemort pushed forward relentlessly, as though he were searching for something.

_Harry was falling asleep in History of Magic, listening to the faint drone of Professor Binns voice saying something about goblin rebellions. He was on the Quidditch pitch, it was raining heavily and he couldn't see in front of him due to the storm. Harry was diving toward Malfoy on the Quidditch pitch, punching every inch of him he could find. He was in Dumbledore's office after the attack on Mr. Weasley, feeling like a snake ready to strike at the old man._

When Harry felt he could bear the pain no longer, he stumbled blindly toward Voldemort, ramming headfirst into him, his face covered in tears. Voldemort re-embodied his mind with a start as the boy tumbled to the ground, sobbing.

"Get up, Potter," he said. "And tell me about these connections you have with my thoughts and mind. I could feel how you felt about Dumbledore in that last memory. You grew angry. I can feel that anger. You wanted to strike him. Strike him like a…" Voldemort stopped mid-sentence and looked to the left. "Ahhhhh and speaking of Nagini," he said softly as his voice turned to hissing. Harry gulped when he saw the ginormous snake crawling through the open window and slithering toward the rug on the hearth.

"_You called massssster?_" Nagini asked the Dark Lord as she approached.

"Yesssssss, my ssssweeet." Voldemort hissed. "I wanted you to take a closssser look at our young friend, Harry Potter. Can you ssssssmell him, dear Nagini?"

"Ssssmell me?" Harry hissed in surprise. "What will that do?" Voldemort stared at Harry.

"Ah yesssssss. I had forgotten you sssssspeak the tongue, Harry Potter," Voldemort breathed as he stared hungrily at Harry. Not knowing what to say or why it mattered to Voldemort that he could speak Parseltongue, Harry didn't say anything in return.

"He ssssssmells familiar, massssster," Nagini said as she circled around Harry in his chair. "He issssss like a brother."

Harry thought that if the smile on Voldemort's face could grow any larger, it would split his chalky white cheeks.

"What does that mean?" Harry asked Voldemort in English, breathing fast. "What the bloody hell is going on? WHY HAVEN'T YOU DONE ME IN ALREADY?" he finished dramatically, panting in his chair and looking wildly at Voldemort.

"_Crucio,_" Voldemort said in response to Harry's outburst. Harry writhed to the floor in pain, yelling loudly as his mind filled with nothing but thoughts of when it would stop. After a few torturous seconds, Voldemort lifted his wand and the spell broke. Harry lay panting where he fell.

"Manners, boy," said Voldemort icily. "You are mine now and you will never raise your voice to me again. Do you understand?" Voldemort looked dangerous, his eyes glinting madly in the glare of the fire.

"I am not yours," Harry spat mutinously, but no sooner than he had spoken the words was he in writhing in pain once more. Voldemort held onto the curse longer this time and when the pain finally ceased, Harry moaned woefully facedown on the ground, his whole body ached as if every bone had been removed and regrown with Skelegro, the painful potion he was forced to take in his second year at Hogwarts. _Hogwarts,_ Harry thought mournfully. _Ron. Hermione._ He as never going to see them again. He was going to die at the hands of Lord Voldemort, just like his parents. But Voldemort was going to torture him first, the evil git. Pain racked Harry's body as he felt himself being lifted back into the chair in front of him.

"Now, now boy," Voldemort taunted. "I wouldn't be so defiant without hearing all the facts. I haven't decided what I'm doing with you yet and it could be rather nasty you know."

"I already know what you're going to do to me," Harry laughed brashly. "Nice try, but if you're trying to get information on Dumbledore and the Order, you're out of luck. They never let me in the meetings. You'll just have to kill me because I don't know anything that will help you stop Dumbledore. He stays far away from me if he can help it." Harry tried to make this sound nonchalant, but his voice gave him away toward the end and Voldemort knew immediately the boy was hurt that Dumbledore ignored him. He had noticed as much in his search of the boy's memories in any case. And then it dawned on Voldemort.

"Dumbledore knew!" He exclaimed. "Dumbledore knew what you were and that's why he's kept his distance from you since I've returned to power. But that means…" Voldemort's eyes widened in understanding, making Harry feel like bats were doing cartwheels in his stomach. Something was very, very wrong about the way Voldemort was looking at him.

"I think, Harry Potter," said Voldemort slowly. "That we have much to discuss."


	5. Chapter 5: You're a Horcrux, Harry

**Chapter 5: You're a Horcrux, Harry**

Harry stared hard into those pitiless red eyes, wondering what Voldemort could possibly have in store for him now. Hadn't he been through enough? Over the last five years, he'd prevented Voldemort from stealing the Philosopher's Stone, killed a basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, and survived the Dark Lord's murderous attack on him in the graveyard. _If just a year ago Voldemort wanted him dead, why in the bloody hell was Harry sitting here, in what looked like Lord Voldemort's private quarters, chatting by the fire? _thought Harry frantically. _What secrets did he know about why Dumbledore had been ignoring him all year?_

"I don't know what you're playing at… _Tom_," Harry emphasized the word bravely and Voldemort's eyes flared at the mention of this name. "But I've just about had enough of these games," Harry said.

"Ah, but the game has finally gotten a bit interesting, my dear boy," Voldemort said mischievously. "And you're at the center of it all.

"Harry?" Voldemort asked, using his first name for once. Harry eyed him nervously. "Do you know what a horcrux is?" Blank shock emanated on the boy's face. Clearly he had never heard the word before.

"Well, it seems your hero Dumbledore kept you quite in the dark," Voldemort said sardonically while Harry glared. "That old fool discovered my biggest secret, but more than that, he knew about you."

"What about me?" Harry asked, incensed and yet he found himself leaning forward in anticipation.

"You're a horcrux, Harry" Voldemort said simply. With a hungry look in his eyes, he added, "_My horcrux._" Harry didn't know what the hell a horcrux was, but a shiver went down his spine when he saw the way Voldemort was looking at him. A deep crawling sensation began forming in the pit of Harry's stomach.

"What's… what's a horcrux?" Harry asked stupidly, knowing he would dread the answer.

Voldemort leaned back into his armchair, once again resting his hands in a thoughtful position under his chin, entirely relaxed.

"I have worked very hard, Harry, throughout the years to become invincible," he began. "During my earliest times experimenting at Hogwarts, I came across a most intriguing book that introduced me to an object called a horcrux. There is a spell — a most difficult, dangerous, and… _deadly_ spell that can actually split the soul itself." Harry looked on confused, yet enthralled.

Harry's thoughts were flying by as fast as if he were chasing them on his Firebolt. _A spell that could split the soul? Why would anyone want that? Had Voldemort actually split himself in two? What did souls have to do with horcruxes? _All he could do was stare at Voldemort, feeling dumb as the Dark Lord paused for the boy to gather his thoughts before continuing his tale.

"You see, Harry, here was my chance to become what I most desired," he went on. "By taking a part of my soul and storing it inside an object of great value, I would become immortal. I made one of these horcruxes when I was just 16 and stored it in a diary, holding within it's pages a copy of my 16 year old self and the knowledge to open the Chamber of Secrets. Lucius tells me this book was destroyed by none other than you," Voldemort's nostrils flared as he stared accusingly down at Harry, who remembered stabbing the book that held the near-corporeal memory of Tom Riddle. Harry shuttered as he thought of the way the ink fell out of it like blood…

"Although you destroyed the piece of soul within my diary, I did not die that day either, for I have made many horcruxes over the years. I've hidden them in objects I deem of value. Objects that make me even more powerful."

Harry stared, disbelieving.

"Almost 15 years ago, I came to your parent's home in Godric's Hollow intent on killing you. We both know your mother's idiotic sacrifice was my undoing, but what I didn't know until I entered your mind tonight — and what you clearly have never known — is that when the killing curse rebounded upon me, my soul was split for yet another time. And this time, it seems my horcrux has latched itself onto you through that scar on your forehead."

Harry was shocked. He felt a numb buzz begin to vibrate across every inch of his skin. "A piece of your soul is… is… inside me?" Harry asked, amazed.

"Yesssssssss," Voldemort breathed. "Jussssssssst like your sssssisssssster Nagini, I now have two living horcruxesssssssssss. How very sssssatissssssfying," he hissed. Nagini lifted her head from the hearth and looked up at Harry. Harry could have sworn she was smiling at him.

"And Dumbledore knew!" Voldemort said triumphantly. "He knew what you were, which means it is certain he has been planning your death, boy."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, trying to take in everything he was suddenly learning with such rapidity.

"Dumbledore wants to end me, Harry," Voldemort said impatiently. "I'm certain he knows I've made at least one horcrux. He must've recognized the magic in the diary. I should never have left it in that fool Malfoy's care. And Dumbledore guessed about you when he noticed the connection between us, the connection I noticed in December when you entered Nagini's mind. You did tell him about the dreams, Potter? Perhaps he even warned you to try and stop having them since he feared I would find out the truth?" Harry nodded miserably. "Then, there's your proof he knew you were a horcrux. Knew that you would have to die if I were to be destroyed. Think Potter. Think! Dumbledore has been avoiding you all year. You are a pawn in our game. _He's raising you like a pig for slaughter!_" Voldemort added viciously.

Harry didn't know what to say. It was all so crazy and yet… it made perfect sense. All his frustrations and confusions about what has been happening this year appeared before him clear as day. His strange dreams — being able to feel Voldemort's emotions through the scar — the fact that he was a parselmouth — even the sorting hat felt like he would do well in Slytherin. And finally, there was Dumbledore. Dumbledore and his secrets. And here was Voldemort, his worst enemy, willingly sharing all of this information with Harry. Harry's hand absentmindedly reached up to softly touch his lightning bolt scar, as he pondered all of this in fascinated horror.

"Do you want to know what true power is, Harry?" Voldemort asked wickedly. "Let me show you."

* * *

_**A/N: Hey all, thank you for your support and reviews of my story! What do you think so far? I've written out chapters up to ten and will be posting soon. Do you think it should take a darker turn? What do you think Voldemort would do if he found out Harry was a Horcrux?**_

_**This is my first attempt at a fanfiction. Thank you, thank you for reading and reviewing! :)**_


	6. Chapter 6: A Knock on the Door

**Chapter 6: A Knock on the Door**

Voldemort was laughing silently to himself, so pleased with the way things were going. The boy seemed calm enough, but really he ought to take another look inside his mind just in case. Just then, a sharp knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Voldemort glanced sideways at Harry and silently immobilized him and made him invisible.

"I was told I would not be disturbed in these quarters," Voldemort called out to the knocker. After half a breath's pause, he added, "Enter."

Slowly, the door opened to reveal Narcissa and a couple of house elves hovering timidly behind her. "I'm so sorry my lord," she whispered. "I came as soon as I had the elves, but I should have waited. I did not think."

"No, you did not," Voldemort replied menacingly. "_Crucio_."

Narcissa fell to the floor screaming. The house elves froze looking terrified, now plainly visible to Lord Voldemort. Voldemort released her and Narcissa lay panting on the ground. He turned his attention to the elves.

"You will be called Slither," he nodded to the one of the left. "And you Hiss," he said to the other. "Regardless of where you were taken from, I am your new master now. I order you to follow no other wizard's command but my own, do you understand?" The elves murmured their affirmations, looking more scared and pitiful than any house elf Harry had every laid eyes on. Even among their kind, Lord Voldemort must be notorious.

"Start by going to the other rooms and making them habitable," Voldemort said in a bored voice, as though his time were being wasted. "Then go down to the kitchens and fix a meal for myself and my dear Nagini. She enjoys large rodents," he indicated to the snake on the rug. The elves nodded fervently, relieved to be leaving Lord Voldemort's presence so quickly and they disappeared with a crack.

"Bring me your husband, Narcissa," Voldemort said angrily as he turned to face the women still cowering on the ground. "You have clearly indicated that you want me to take action immediately…. _without thinking things through,_" he hissed through closed teeth. Narcissa whimpered, but didn't rise.

"Please punish me my lord," she cried out. "Have mercy, my lord. Please do not blame Lucius for my mistake."

Voldemort felt a flicker of annoyance. This arrogant woman did not understand that he blamed Lucius for a lot more than her foolish interruptions.

"Do not make me say it again, Narcissa," Voldemort said quietly. "In fact, why doesn't the whole family join us. Call on the school and get your son back tonight. It's end of term anyway and I'd like to finally meet young Draco. Go now. Before you truly begin to regret questioning Lord Voldemort." Narcissa looked with horror upon the Dark Lord before scurrying from the room in tears.

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**A/N: I really enjoy following the trials and tribulations of the Malfoy family. Do you guys enjoy these chapters too, or do you feel like they take away from the main story about Harry and Voldemort? **


	7. Chapter 7: Respite for Thoughts

**Chapter 8: Respite for Thoughts**

Voldemort released Harry, who felt a swift rush of lightness as the curse was lifted and he could speak again — though he was not sure he had anything to say to Voldemort. He was sickened by the way Malfoy's mother had been treated and knew Voldemort would only torture him more if he complained. Thoughts bounced around Harry's head like fireworks. _Horcruxes. Dumbledore. Voldemort. Horcruxes. Horcruxes! Horcruxes!_

"Perhaps some time to meditate on what I've told you would be beneficial," said Voldemort suddenly, eyeing him with a peculiar air. Harry started. He had almost forgotten where he was, so consumed as he was with his own mind. It scared him how Voldemort could read his thoughts with such ease. The Dark Lord stood up and gestured to Harry to do the same. Warily, he followed the Dark Lord through a heavy, wooded door next to the mantle and found himself in a small, simple bedroom.

"This room is heavily enchanted," Voldemort said. "Even with your wand, I doubt you would be able to escape it. I give you leave to rest and ponder this discovery, Harry Potter. A human horcrux is unprecedented magic. I, too, have much to contemplate as to what can be done about this unbelievable turn of events. To think! I've been trying to kill you for 14 years and now I must do everything in my power to keep you alive! If only Malfoy had managed to get that prophesy, I would understand the way forward with clarity. He will pay soon enough…" Voldemort trailed off, staring intently at the wall opposite a four poster bed.

Harry did not enjoy listening to Voldemort's little speech. He had so many questions and felt an anger rise in him like bile at the thought of Dumbledore, the only man who could've explained all of this to him, but instead chose to keep him in the dark. _Why didn't Dumbledore trust him? _Like a punch in the gut, it hit him._ Dumbledore was afraid of him! _Harry thought overcome with a sudden sadness. _Dumbledore knew Harry shared a soul with Voldemort. He didn't want to get too close when it was clear Harry must inevitably be killed for the greater good…_

Wordlessly, Voldemort shut the black door with a snap and Harry was alone. In his frustration, Harry kicked hard at the foot of the bed only to feel a sharp pain as his toe smashed against the metal frame. Cursing and grabbing his foot, he fell onto the bed. After the pain had subsided a little, Harry turned and began furiously punching the dark green pillow, pretending he was breaking Dumbledore's already crooked nose.

_That old, lying bastard_, Harry thought viciously as he slammed his fists against the pillow.

All this time, he had believed Dumbledore truly cared about him, maybe loved him. Even after being ignored this year, Harry still had faith that the man knew what he was doing in the fight against Voldemort. It never occurred to Harry that he only mattered to Dumbledore because of his connection to Voldemort — that he was a weapon to be used in the war, not a human being cursed with this unlucky scar.

Sighing hopelessly, Harry wondered what was going to happen now. If he truly was this horcrux thing, he was forever linked to Voldemort. Harry had a sudden vision of Quirrell in his turban and Harry's face mashed on the back of Voldemort's head. He shuddered at the thought. Overcome with mental exhaustion and worry, tears poured down Harry's face as he turned his head and tried desperately to fall into a fitful sleep.


	8. Chapter 8: Draco's Demise

Chapter 8: Draco's Demise

When Harry awoke, he was back in front of the fire, but could feel he was invisible and silenced once again. He felt violated at the thought of Voldemort carrying him like a sleeping baby from room to room, and bit back another mouthful of vomit as he looked fearfully into the catlike eyes. There was a soft knock on the suite's door.

"Enter," Voldemort said in a high, cruel voice.

The Malfoy's entered the room huddled together and looking quite fearful. They bowed deeply before Lord Voldemort, kissed the hem of his robes and waited for his command.

"So this is young Draco, is it? Finally we meet," Voldemort said with a sickeningly sweet voice. Draco gulped and glanced furtively into those dark red eyes.

"It… is a great… pl-pleasure to meet you, my lord… sir… my lord," he stammered quietly before glancing at his mother who gave a tiny nod of approval.

"Well, your father speaks very highly of you," Voldemort continued now looking at Lucius as he spoke. "Yes, a talented young wizard, you told me Lucius?"

"That's right, my lord," Lucius mumbled. And before he could stop himself, Lucius let the rest of what was on his mind tumble from him in a cascade of soft-spoken, melodic words. "My lord… about the mission at the ministry, I must most profusely apolo…." But Voldemort put up a hand to silence him.

"You have failed me, Lucius," Voldemort said dangerously.

"I do not deny it, my lord," Lucius said quickly. "Most regrettable and I take full responsibility. Any… any punishment you have planned, I will bear the burden," he looked worryingly at his wife and son.

"Do you care if I live or die, Lucius?" Voldemort asked.

Lucius gaped at him, surprised. "Of course my lord!" he admonished bravely. "You are the most powerful, most magnanimous, lord. Our great and glorious leader who will…"

"Like a politician Lucius, your words are slippery as a ssssnake," Voldemort interrupted in a hiss. The hissing continued for a few more seconds and Nagini raised her head before slowly moving toward Narcissa and Draco. Lucius took half a step backwards in fright, but his wife and son seemed frozen to the ground as the dark green beast drew closer.

"Do you care for my life as much as the lives of your wife and child?" Voldemort asked seriously. Lucius opened and closed his mouth, gaping like a fish out of water, his eyes bulging. He seemed quite unable to respond, instead staring at the giant snake as it began circling his family.

Finally, he managed to whisper a small, "my lord," in protest. Voldemort lazily pointed his wand at Narcissa, still angry about her stupidity from earlier. If she had she entered his chamber without knocking, she would have seen the boy.

"_Crucio,_" he said as she fell screaming to the floor. Draco jumped in shock and looked on in horror as his mother writhed on the ground. Lucius looked desperately on, falling to his knees in anguish.

Voldemort smiled thinly as he released the curse, looking down upon the sobbing woman.

"That prophesy _was _my life, Lucius," the Dark Lord said quietly. "In failing to retrieve it, you have opened me up to vulnerabilities. I expect retribution." Malfoy was stunned into silence. Voldemort turned to face Draco, who was engrossed upon his mother lying on the floor.

"Lucius," Voldemort said, still looking at Draco. "Your wife seems to be in distress. Get her taken care of, will you?"

Lucius sprang to his feet and gingerly lifted Narcissa's limp body from the rug at Voldemort's feet. He mumbled a thanks to his lord and turned to leave with his son in tow, but…

"Draco, a word if you please," Lord Voldemort called out.

Draco and Lucius froze, both unsure of what to do. A small whimper escaped Draco's lips before he began slowly turning around.

"My lord," said Lucius as he turned around with a look of resolve. "I would lay my life before you as I would for my son, which… which is why I must now speak and beg your forgiveness for asking, but if I could request your intentions…"

A flash of light issued from Voldemort's wand and Lucius was screaming on the ground, his wife's unconscious body falling on top of him. Draco winced, frozen to the same spot he had been standing in since entering the chamber.

"I appreciate the sentiment Lucius, but you forget the rule that irks me most," Voldemort said after he had released the curse on the man now moaning pitifully on the floor before him. His weakness disgusted the Dark Lord. In another burst of fury, Voldemort slashed his wand at Lucius's pale face and with a grunt, his head flew sideways as though he had been punched. The welt that now appeared was already so bloodied and black that Malfoy could not open his eye.

"How dare you question Lord Voldemort!" he hissed. "My business with Draco is with Draco alone. Get out before I lose my patience," Voldemort said through gritted teeth. The father and son locked eyes, Lucius looking apprehensive yet defeated through the one eye that could still see. He tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace. Hurriedly, he cradled his wife once more into his arms, gripped his son briefly on the shoulder and hurried from the room without looking back.

Voldemort smiled widely, baring his yellow and pointed teeth. Draco looked horrified. The Dark Lord silently released Harry from the body bind curse, but the disillusionment charm continued to make him invisible. Shocked, Harry felt his wand slide into his hand. Voldemort sat back down in his big leather chair and indicted Draco should do the same. Hesitantly, Draco sat at the edge of his seat, twitching slightly and looking down at the ground.

Voldemort began hissing and Draco felt electrified with fear. He had no idea what was happening or if he was going to die in this room because the Dark Lord was angry with his father. Just a few hours ago, he was making out with Pansy Parkinson in the dungeons at Hogwarts…

"_You ssssssee Harry," _Voldemort said in parseltongue._ "Jusssssssst a touch of pain issssss all it takesssssssss. Look at how they worssssssship me. I've sssseen your thoughtssssss Harry Potter. Thissssss boy is your enemy. Feel that anger rissssssse inssssssside you. Punissssssssh him for all he hasssss done to you!"_

Harry felt fearful and looked at Voldemort as though he were mad. "_I would never kill him even if I do think he'ssssss a git." _ Harry responded in Parseltongue. He couldn't seem to remember how to speak English.

Draco shivered when he heard the second set of hisses, glancing nervously around for the source of the sounds as Nagini was still circling too close to Malfoy for it to be coming from her. Voldemort only smiled.

"_I've enchanted your voice," _Voldemort explained to the puzzled Harry._ "I want our conversssssationsssss private for now. _

_ "Harry… Harry… Let'sssssss not jump ssssstraight to murder jusssst yet. I ssssshall teach you one philosssssophy lesssssssson at a time. Today isssssss about power. The boy before you hassssss taunted you, cursssssed you, hurt your friendssssssss and yet you take that lying down. Are you that much of a coward?"_

Harry stood up in his anger, facing Voldemort. "_I AM NO COWARD_," he hissed as loudly as he could, kicking the chair behind him so it scraped backwards. Draco jumped at the sight and finally spoke to Voldemort, who had been ignoring him for a few minutes now.

"You w…w…wished to sp…speak to me, my… my… my lord?" Draco managed to say. Voldemort was embarrassed for the boy's utterly pathetic weakness. Laughing, he ignored Draco and hissed to Harry.

"_Thissss isss the boy who tortured you?_" He mocked. "_Pathetic. You have a weapon. Curssssse me then, Harry if I am who you wissssh to punisssssh. If you do not care not for the jusssssstice I've laid so graciousssssly before you. I want you to undersssssstand that you can releassssssse thisssss pain. You know the ssssssspell Harry. Let that angssssst sssssswell beyond yourssself and direct it at thossssse who truly dessssserve it_."

Harry looked on Draco's face and felt filled with rage, thinking of every moment Draco had made his life that much harder. The arrogance of him!

"_You've got to mean it, Harry,_" Voldemort goaded.

In a gut wrenching shock that felt like physical pain, Harry remembered how Bellatrix had taunted him with those exact words just last night…or this morning… or however long he's been in this hellhole. In horror, Harry realized he was thinking about Sirius for the first time since he was kidnapped. He had been so overwhelmed with the situation, he had completely forgotten about the loss of his godfather…Sirius… NO! Feeling completely outside of himself, Harry felt his arm lifting his wand and a voice that sounded like his own yelling, "_Crucio_."

Draco was screaming in an instant. He was on the floor in so much pain he couldn't even remember his own name and then it was gone, as quick as it had come. Voldemort smiled at the two boys breathing hard.

"_Good, Harry,_" he whispered. At last, Voldemort faced Malfoy.

"Get up, Draco," he said coldly. "I wish to speak to you about a little plan I've got formulating." Draco's tear stained face looked terrifyingly up at Voldemort as he scrambled his way backwards into the armchair. "You are of noble blood, dear Draco. And of loyal stock, like your father. You are the perfect _man —_" Voldemort emphasized the word, "— for the job."

Draco seemed unable to respond, staring mesmerized into the dark blood-red eyes. Harry scowled, anger still pumping hard in his veins as he was now the one being ignored by Voldemort. He had actually felt a great release when he cursed Malfoy.

_What was happening to him? _Harry pondered in increasing agitation._ He was listening to Voldemort and actually appreciating the advice. Has he always been like this? Is he not the righteous Gryffindor he once thought he was? _

Anger rippled through Harry's chest. Before he could stop himself, Harry pointed his wand at Malfoy's face once again, wishing nothing more in that moment than to hurt this boy who had tortured him for five years — and maybe, just maybe, feel something other than the terrible anguish that gripped him.

Voldemort's laughter rang around the stone-walled chamber, surely heard by the other occupants of the mansion. _The boy's desperate parents would undoubtedly hear the drawn-out screams of their only son,_ Voldemort thought as watched Malfoy struggle helplessly on the ground. He allowed Harry to continue for a few moments longer, and finally the boy's fury started to ebb. He lowered his wand, breathing forcefully and looking unsure of himself.

"_You sssssee, Harry?_" Voldemort asked softly. "_How much better doessssss that feel? You've done very well._" Harry felt as though he was going to be sick. Did he really just torture Draco and actually enjoy it? Harry immediately regretted what he'd done.

Voldemort huddled over the shivering boy's body and laughed again. With a flick of his wand, Draco was raised from the ground like an invisible rope was tied around his neck. Choking, Draco clutched desperately at his bare throat, his legs flinging uselessly in the air. Voldemort roughly grabbed his chin to steady him and forced the boy to look directly into his dark eyes, their faces inches apart.

"I have a task for you, Draco Malfoy," Voldemort whispered.

And with that, he dropped Malfoy unceremoniously back onto the armchair where he crumpled like a rag doll, gasping for air.

"The pain you have felt thus far is _nothing_," Voldemort said. "_Nothing_ compared to what I could inflict upon you… what I _will_ inflict upon you if you fail me." Malfoy shivered.

"You are returning to Hogwarts this fall for your sixth year, are you not? As I said before, you are a noble pureblood and should know advanced magic by now. You are in the ideal position, ideal indeed, to finally get rid of that meddlesome, crackpot old fool, Dumbledore."

If Harry looked surprised, it was nothing compared to the look of blank shock emanating on Draco's face.

"K…k…kill Dumbledore?" he whispered incredulously, eyes widened in fear. "I… I…. I can't do that!"

"Of course you can," Voldemort said sharply. "I would not ask it of you otherwise. You will do this Draco. And you will be honored above all others as my most faithful servant. Wouldn't you like that? Think of the pride your parents will feel. This is an opportunity, Draco, for you to prove your worth. To make up for your father's mistakes. This will be the greatest moment of your life. Where is the gratitude for your merciful lord?

"Thank me, Draco," he added viciously.

Draco lifted his head, shaking it slightly as though trying to clear away unwelcome thoughts.

"Thank you, m…my… lord," he managed to murmur without looking at the Dark Lord.

Voldemort seemed satisfied.

"Yes, Draco," he said. "You ought to be thankful for Lord Voldemort's most gracious gift to you. A chance to make amends for your father's failures. Restore your family name. Be honored beyond your wildest dreams. You will have everything you've ever wanted and more Draco — once you complete this one small request of mine."

Draco nodded, resolve on his face as he brought himself to his knees, color returning to his pale cheeks. Harry scowled. Honoring Draco Malfoy was not exactly what he had in mind. Angry again, he raised his wand, but Voldemort, catching wind of what Harry was about to do quickly disarmed the boy. Harry looked mutinous, but could not do anything invisible, wandless, and only able to hiss in Parseltongue.

"I will do it, my lord," Draco said, kneeling low before Voldemort. "I will k…kill Albus Dumbledore as you command."

"Well done, Draco, my talented new recruit," Voldemort said silkily. "We will initiate you as one of my Death Eaters later this summer. You will be the youngest to ever join my inner circle. How does that sound for glory, Draco?"

"Good, my lord. Thank you, my lord," Draco had lost his stutter and seemed to be getting some of his old confidence back at the praise he was receiving from Voldemort.

"Now go," Voldemort said abruptly. "I'm sure your parents are eager to hear the good news." He smiled evilly as Draco stumbled to his feet as quickly as he could, muttered another thank you to Voldemort and hurried from the room.


	9. Chapter 9: There is No Good or Evil

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks everyone for the likes and follows! So I have actually written almost 30,000 words for this story. The problem is... it gets dark, really dark. And I'm not sure which direction this story should take. Are my readers interested in mature content, even if it ends up with slash (NOT Voldemort/Harry though)? Thanks for your thoughts!**

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When Harry was once again released from the binding curses, he turned to Voldemort huffily.

"Draco won't be able to kill Dumbledore," Harry said as soon as he could speak. "He'll try I'm sure, but he's not talented enough to take on a wizard like Dumbledore," Harry said confidently, thinking of the incredible magic Harry saw Dumbledore perform at the ministry just the other night. "How could you possibly think he could do this?"

"I don't," Voldemort replied. "You forget, Harry Potter, that it is you who has qualms with young Draco. I, on the other hand, am much more interested in getting a message across to his father. This is simply punishment for Lucius's mistakes. You think I am fool enough to believe a 16 year old boy can kill my greatest enemy? No. Hopefully, the boy will die trying. If not, I will kill him myself for failing me. A bit of slow torture for his father, who will spend the next few months watching his son attempt an impossible task. I find it to be a bit more… effective… than if I had simply killed Draco tonight."

Harry listened with wonder. _It was hideous, but smart,_ he thought. And much more insidious than Harry could have possibly imagined.

"So you see Harry," he continued. "Power is the greatest tool at your disposal to seek justice in this world. There is no good or evil. Look at your dear Dumbledore, your so-called hero. He would have let me kill you without batting an eye. It was his plan! His plan was for you to die and yet he is supposed to be so pure and innocent. Am I truly the evil one here? Was I the one who deceived you? I too have been deceived."

He looked deep into Harry's eyes trying to garner what the boy was thinking now and if he saw the truth in what Voldemort was saying. _It was true_, Harry conceded. All these years, he thought Dumbledore was protecting him, helping him, but it had all been a lie for his own gain. Voldemort was right! Dumbledore used Harry—like a pawn in a game of wizard chess. _At least Voldemort had been honest with him,_ he thought angrily. Harry felt a boiling hatred build inside him as the wrinkled face of Dumbledore wavered in his mind's eye.

Voldemort smiled widely and put a hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry tensed slightly, but did not pull away.

"I will teach you everything you want to know, Harry Potter."


	10. Chap 10: Anger Builds, Revenge Follows

Harry awoke with a start. It felt like the last few days had been a dream. _Was he really in Malfoy Manor with Voldemort? Has he truly been betrayed by Dumbledore… or was Voldemort tricking him in some way? If Voldemort was manipulating him, _Harry thought._ Then he was making up a very elaborate tale…and to what end?_

Harry was plagued with doubts as he slowly opened the door to his private chambers, his stomach rumbling.

"It is time for us to talk, Harry Potter," Voldemort said the instant he had entered and Harry once again found himself in the presence of Lord Voldemort—wandless and alone.

"What troubles you?" he asked.

Harry almost laughed at the question. _What troubles me? Is he mental? Oh, maybe just the fact that I've been kidnapped and it turns out I share a soul with my greatest enemy?!_

Voldemort's wand was out in a flash and he shouted the Legilimens curse before Harry could even consider how to really reply to the Dark Lord's question. They both plunged into Harry's mind as if they were diving into a pool of icy water. …_Harry was getting a horrible haircut by Aunt Petunia while Dudley laughed viciously in the corner… He was being chased up a tree by Ripper, all the Dursley's pointing and jeering heartily as Harry scrambled just out of reach of the vicious teeth… Harry was being locked in the second floor bedroom of Number 4 Privet Drive, and Uncle Vernon was telling him he was never going back to Hogwarts… Harry was being thrown into the cupboard under the stairs while Uncle Vernon screamed he wouldn't be eating for a week… _When Voldemort finally withdrew, Harry was on the ground, gasping for air and crying. Being reminded of the Dursley's cruelty all at once left him feeling sick. He rocked slowly side to side as though trying to shake the memories from his body.

Voldemort waited for Harry's breathing to slow before forcing the boy to take a healing potion. Harry coughed slightly as he got up and looked warily at Voldemort as though unsure what he might do next.

"Those muggles were horrible," he said quietly after a moment, his eyes full of menacing rage. "They abused you. They tormented you — a wizard. Not just any wizard, but _MY horcrux_!" Harry didn't respond as Voldemort raged on screaming about vermin and filth. After being reminded so painfully of the torture he endured, Harry could do nothing but concede Voldemort was once again only speaking the truth.

"Harry," Voldemort went on. "You are a powerful wizard—or so I thought," he added sneeringly. "And yet you let those filthy muggles disrespect you for years, even after you acquired a wand. Harry, I'm surprised at you!"

Voldemort's mockery made Harry turn pink around the ears.

"Yeah?" he shot back. "And what was I supposed to do about it? I suppose you want me to say it's all about power and blah, blah, blah. You think I should've tortured them like I tortured Draco? That would have been real smart — using the Cruciatus curse underage so the Ministry can chuck me in Azkaban. And even if I found another way, that'll make things all better right? WELL IT DIDN'T!" Harry yelled, unable to contain his fury any longer. "I STILL AM KIDNAPPED. I MISS MY FRIENDS AND HOGWARTS. TORTURING DRACO MAY HAVE HELPED IN THE MOMENT BUT AFTERWARDS I FELT SICK TO MY STOMACH." Harry took a deep breath before plunging on. "AND… AND THE REST OF THE TIME, WELL ALL I DO IS SPEND IT THINKING ABOUT HOW I'M TRAPPED IN THIS BLOODY HOUSE WITH YOU."

Voldemort didn't say or move a muscle as he allowed the boy to vent his frustrations, but was pleased all the same with the way Harry was now looking at him nervously as though certain he would be punished for the outburst.

Voldemort smiled.

"If Draco's torture helped for a moment, then perhaps all we need is to find a few more people to enact some vengeful punishment?" Voldemort asked calmly. "And yes, Harry. It is about power. You think every situation calls for a short bout of the Cruciatus Curse? There are infinitely more subtle and effective ways to enact revenge, Harry. Let me show you."

Harry was still shaking with rage, embarrassed about having to relive the Dursley's abuse in front of Voldemort. All the same, he was glad he hadn't been punished and felt a terrible spark of curiosity at the thought of what Voldemort was about to say next.

"Shall we visit your dear relatives, Harry?"


	11. Chapter 11: Visiting the Dursley's

They quietly arrived at number 4 Privet Drive and Harry felt a rush of adrenaline when he saw the house before him. Voldemort gripped his arm painfully as he steered him toward the front door.

"_Alohamora_," Voldemort said. The door opened with a click and Harry walked inside, Voldemort close at his heels but no longer touching him.

The Dursley's were just sitting down to dinner in the kitchen. Uncle Vernon came forward angrily when he heard the sound of wood scraping the floor.

"WHO IN THE BLOODY HELL THINKS THEY CAN JUST WALK INTO A MAN'S HOME?" Uncle Vernon bellowed before stopping short of the two people coming toward him. "Is…is that you, boy?" Vernon asked falteringly as the shadowy figures made their way into the lighted kitchen.

Vernon slowly backed into the room as they advanced, a hand reaching out to lean on the doorframe as his face slowly turned from a raging purple to white. Petunia poked her long neck around the corner to see what was going on and let out a soft shriek when she saw Lord Voldemort towering before her husband. Harry sauntered slowly forward, savoring the fear in his family's eyes. These people who had treated him like dirt his entire life. In a rush of rage, Harry went to reach for his wand, but realized that Voldemort had not provided it to him and he looked over at the Dark Lord, questioningly. He only shook his head. Harry scowled. _Weren't they here to torture his horrible family?_ he thought frustratingly.

"You are still underage, Harry," Voldemort said consolingly. "We do not want the Ministry coming here tonight. But as I said before… there are other ways." He smiled evilly before turning his snakelike face upon Mr. Dursley who stood frozen with fear. His family huddled behind him. Dudley had not moved a centimeter since laying eyes upon the hideous face of Lord Voldemort. Petunia's eyes began brimming with tears at the realization of who must be standing before her.

"Muggle," Voldemort said, addressing Vernon in a commanding voice. Vernon shook with fright, his mustache quivering, as the horrid snake-like face turned to him. "You have committed a terrible crime—you have tormented a wizard.

"You will be punished for your deeds," Voldemort said. With a burst of surprising speed and agility, Voldemort threw a small dagger coated with a glowing blue substance directly into Vernon's side. He fell, gasping and covered in thick red blood.

"VERNON! NO!" Petunia screamed shrilly. Dudley turned sheet-white. His legs must've given out because he started to slide slowly down the kitchen wall.

Uncle Vernon grunted painfully as he pulled out the small blade — Petunia rushed forward and dabbed at the wound with a flowery kitchen towel. The wound did not look fatal and soon, Petunia was stemming the blood.

"Stand up, Muggle," Voldemort commanded—and like a marionette on a string, Vernon Dursley sprung up straight, his eyes glowing light, bright blue. Petunia fell back in shock at the suddenness of her husband's movements and screamed again when she saw the glowing blue eyes.

"Silence, idiot woman," Voldemort cried. He turned to Harry, "Some potions can carry charms and enchantments," he explained. "This particular one is quite similar to the effects of the Imperius Curse. Go on and give it a try."

Harry looked at Vernon, and said without hesitation, "Punch yourself in the face as hard as you can."

Vernon tightened his fist, swung heavily, and let out a muffled yell as blood fell freely from his broken nose. Harry nodded satisfactorily.

"What the bloody hell?" Vernon muttered in shock as he dabbed at the blood now trickling into his mouth.

"The best part is, they are aware of everything, but have no control," Voldemort said.

Harry had a jolt of inspiration and looked gleefully upon his uncle. When Vernon saw the red in his nephew's eyes, he felt true fear for the first time in his long and comfortable life. He was utterly terrified of his nephew.

"Uncle Vernon," said Harry. "I think I'd like it very much if you could take a look in the cupboard under the stairs for me?" All the Dursley's were looking at Harry in utter shock, Vernon's eyes full of fear behind the blue glow. He slowly made his way toward the cupboard, leaning his fat head inside. As soon as he had lowered his head, Harry pushed with all his might as his Uncle crashed forward with a painful yelp. Upside-down and pinned on all sides in what looked like painfully awkward positions, Harry slammed the door forcefully and although it didn't shut, Harry managed to close the latch, his Uncle's fat stomach oozing from the crack in the door as he moaned in agony.

Harry felt elated, vindicated, full of fiery-hot rage. He had never felt so alive! _Was this what true power felt like?_ he thought. He could get used to this. Harry tried not to think too hard on the pillars of morality crashing down inside his mind and instead turned his attention to Voldemort. He noticed with an uneasy lurch that the Dark Lord was again looking at him with that hungry look in his eye. Voldemort, it turned out, was incredibly pleased. Perhaps Potter could be of some use to him after all.

"Ah, this must be your cousin, Harry?" Voldemort asked turning his red eyes upon the terrified pig-like boy trying impossibly to hide in the corner of the kitchen. Harry smiled.

"Yeah, that's Big D," he smirked turning also to look at his cousin. Dudley flinched but otherwise seemed quite unable to move or speak at all. Harry noticed with immense glee that Dudley's trousers were sopping wet, yellow liquid running along the tile floor.

"Horrible boy," Voldemort said, his voice full of icy menace. "You will pay for the harm you have bestowed upon this wizard."

Voldemort grabbed at Harry's wrist and wrenched open his palm, dropping in it some small, purple pellets. He took one from the pile and signaling to Harry what he should do, aimed the pill at Dudley and flicked it lightly into the air. After a sudden crack like a real bullet being fired, Dudley screamed and grabbed his arm. Harry saw there was a large purple welt spreading rapidly on the skin. With an awful laugh, Harry began to take aim at his cousin with the next pellet.

Petunia sprang into action as though she was just released from a body binding curse. She immediately ran forward and shielded herself between Harry and her son. Harry froze. Thoughts began pouring over him. It was as if time was repeating himself and he saw his mother Lily in place of his aunt before him, shielding he, Harry, from Voldemort — the very Voldemort who he now was with, torturing people and laughing about it. Disgusted, Harry lowered his hand and dropped the pellets onto the ground, tears beginning to form in his eyes. _What was he doing? _he thought confusedly. _Why was he siding with Voldemort? Who even was he anymore?_

Voldemort felt a surge of anger. The idiot woman was ruining everything, just like her sister. He shouldn't have brought the boy here so soon. He wasn't ready for this kind of revenge yet. Cursing himself, Voldemort grabbed hold of Harry, muttering, "Come on, boy. It's time to go."

Harry pulled away, certain he no longer wanted to go with Voldemort. Perhaps he could hold him off. _Voldemort couldn't use magic here unless he wanted the ministry to arrive, and he definitely couldn't use magic on Harry!_ Harry realized with a shock. _They were at number 4 Privet Drive! Voldemort couldn't harm him here! _Harry nearly laughed out loud._ How could Voldemort have forgotten about that?_

In a fury, Voldemort swooped down upon Petunia and knocked her aside forcefully. He then pointed his wand at the fat muggle boy.

"_Crucio_," he yelled and Dudley's screams filled the house, echoing against his mother's. Harry bit his lip, not knowing what to do. He knew Voldemort wouldn't hesitate to kill Dudley, but Harry wasn't ready to give in either. _How could he buy time until the ministry arrived?_

Voldemort knew what the boy was thinking and had to spring into action before Harry realized the danger. With a flick of his wand, both Dudley and Petunia were whisked into the air, their limbs flailing grotesquely as they screamed. Voldemort brought them swiftly to the door and out onto the street. Harry, with a yell of surprise, scampered after them bravely.

As soon as both Harry's feet were on the sidewalk, Voldemort apparated to his side, grabbed him roughly by the collar and disapparated just as Harry glimpsed the first ministry official arriving on the scene.


End file.
